Nicole nodded. “We’ll handle Dominique, Mom,” she said with determination. “You’re the bride, not the content provider.”
But she was also the owner and manager of Snowberry Weddings. Somehow, she had to work while she got married. How had she put herself into such an awful corner?
“Tell us some of what’s on the list,” MJ said. “Maybe we can help.”
“I wish.” Cindy rolled her eyes heavenward and let out a tiny, strangled laugh. “It’s fine. I’ll get a few of the must-do’s done and put off the rest. She rudely didn’t show this afternoon and now I don’t know when—or if—we can expect her tonight.”
“Tonight is your dinner at High West Distillery,” Gracie said. “You can’t miss that!”
No, she couldn’t.
“Let me go back and remind her that I’m the bride and she can figure this out tomorrow.” But even as she blew a kiss and rushed back to her office, she was already thinking of a few things on that list she could squeeze in.
As she slid into her chair, the phone on her desk lit up with Dominique’s name.
Or she could tell this human bulldozer to drive off a cliff.
Clearing her throat, she touched the speaker button. “Hello?—”
“I’m waiting for your response.”
Her back stiffened. “My rehearsal dinner is in a few hours,” she said through gritted teeth. “My future—and former—mother-in-law is landing at the airport shortly. My family is gathered and…I don’t know what a slow-mo toggle is, so?—”
The other woman laughed. “Bride panic. So natural. Listen, Cin, the crew needs to come by tonight?—”
“We won’t be here,” Cindy said, fisting her hands. “We have a private room reserved for our dinner and?—”
“All you have to do is gather a few things and we?—”
Jack walked in, some snow dusting the shoulders of a tanned suede jacket.
“You’re back early,” she mouthed, then pointed to the phone on her desk. “Dominique.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped into the guest chair, not looking any happier than she felt as the woman on the other end of the phone droned on and on.
“Listen, for our preproduction shots, I’ll need the bridesmaids’ dresses laid out and I’d like a copy of your invitation, the RSVP card, and is the cake there yet? We could?—”
Searching Jack’s face, Cindy made a sudden decision. “Can you please hold, Dominique?”
“Well, I?—”
Cindy cut her off and tapped the phone. “What’s going on?” she asked Jack.
“Mom’s plane got rerouted to Chicago. She’ll get in tonight…at midnight.”
“Oh, no. Poor Bertie.”
He shrugged. “I’ll pick her up after the dinner.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
“It sounds like you’ll be working…for Dominique.”
Cindy closed her eyes. “Just let me get rid of her somehow.” She pressed the phone and took a breath. “Listen, Dom?—”
“I know, I know,” the woman interrupted. “You’re freaking out. Time’s tight on my end, so leave the lodge unlocked and I’ll get into the venue. You go enjoy your little dinner thing. We’ll get as much done without you as possible. Can do?”
It sounded like the out she desperately needed. “Yes,” she said, not coming up with one reason why she had to be there.
